


Holiday Sneers

by clusband



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Any of these relationships can be read as romantic if you want but nothing's explicit, Fluff, Gen, Gift Fic, Humor, Jokes and pranks, Recreational Drug Use, Scheming and Scamming, You get the idea, bullshit and nonsense, go stupid aaa go crazy aaa get deranged and write fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clusband/pseuds/clusband
Summary: Why in the world did holiday season have to fall during the shortest, coldest, darkest, dankest, most horrible days of the sweep?(Holiday gift for my friends i.e. the people who inspire me most in this fandom. Happy New Year and here's to yet another one!)
Relationships: MSPA Reader & Lanque Bombyx, MSPA Reader & Mallek Adalov, MSPA Reader & Marvus Xoloto, MSPA Reader & Skylla Koriga, MSPA Reader & Tagora Gorjek
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Holiday Sneers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeuristicallyInclined](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeuristicallyInclined/gifts), [beavisandbuttheadyaoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beavisandbuttheadyaoi/gifts), [caity_ski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caity_ski/gifts).



> Fair warning: I'm using Marvus's friendsim quirk here instead of his act 2 quirk. Because I hate his act 2 quirk. Thanks for understanding!

Is it the short, dark days that make you want to set something on fire? Or is it the depression that comes along with it?

You don't know which genius decided that the holiday season should fall smack dab between the soft, pleasant cheeks of autumn and spring, but you can say with confidence that winter is- appropriate to this metaphor- the asshole of the seasonal cycle. And by god, you're deep in it now.

So, yeah. You're crafting butt metaphors, it's official: _you_ are _bored_. So bored it knocked your sanity socks off. 

And you know someone who can empathize.

MSPAR: So, how far along are you?

MSPAR: Hour 2? 3?

Marvus: bud i been doing this shiz for sweeps :o/

Marvus: all blends to-fxxking-gether in da end

MSPAR: Never imagined clown church could be boring.

MSPAR: Actually, I think you are messing with me!

Marvus: o word ?

Marvus: fxxk around and find out ;o)

Marvus: could bring u as a +1 babe

Marvus: nah fr tho holiday sermonz get WACK

Marvus: gratitude this kiss tha priests azz dat

Marvus: kneez is wicked hurting from da kneeling

MSPAR: You're just used to your ass getting the kissing.

Marvus: maybe

Marvus: or mayyyyybeeee 

Marvus: im used 2 my buddy hitting me up for some trouble :o)

Marvus: where u been babe ?

Marvus: left me on read for three hours :o(

MSPAR: It doesn't count as "leaving you on read" if you don't send a message first.

MSPAR: Anyway...

MSPAR: It sounds like I'm not the only one who needs a little mischief ;)

Marvus: turn UPPPP !!!!

Is this what happens when two clowns get bored? They drop-kick the conductor off the crazy train and take it off the rails?

As Marvus talks mostly nonsense about his choirboy clown bullshit, you get another text. What's the expression? Two clowns a sideshow, three clowns a three-ring? 

Lanque: What the hell is this supposed to be?

Attached is an image: the journal you got for him. For, you know, the holiday season that spans universes you were just grouching about.

MSPAR: Maybe I should have gotten you glasses instead.

MSPAR: Wanshi liked it. Did you see the inscription?

Lanque: "There’s more to being a soldier purrbeast than killing. A true soldier purrbeast — the best soldier purrbeast — isn’t cruel or mean. He doesn’t claw an enemy who can’t fight back. Where’s the honor in that?” signed: you. "[] Don't be a little bitch about it []" signed: Wanshi.

Lanque: I knoW you're to blame for the potty mouth, but really? Introducing a child to holidays? That's Vulgar, eVen for you.

You sincerely doubt you are to blame for the potty mouth, but you'll take the credit for the attitude.

MSPAR: Much as I hate to play the "clueless alien with no idea what you're talking about" card, I think I just placed one face-up on the field.

Lanque: Cussing is bad language. Curse Words. Bitch. Fuck. 

Lanque: You seemed quite familiar With the concept last We spoke.

Lanque: Or haVe I left as little an impression on you as you haVe on me?

MSPAR: I meant that whole thing about the holidays.

Lanque: Holidays are for cloWns and cloWn kissers.

Lanque: Jades are a strictly secular caste.

MSPAR: You're telling me there's religious significance to lusus, uh, "leavings?"

Lanque: You're telling me you can't connect those smelly, smelly dots?

Lanque: Don't you hang out With the funny folk regularly?

Lanque: You act like you do.

Lanque: Here's another cuss for you: slut.

Subtle. The casteism is a new flavor; Lanque must be feeling really strongly about something.

MSPAR: So I have this plan...

MSPAR: Want to spread some of this holiday spirit?

Marvus: :o)

-x-

Mallek is easy to rope into schemes because Mallek's brain is always operating with sub-optimal serotonin levels. 

Hey, it's depression's world, you're just living in it. Together. 

But mostly he's interested in the baking part. And the _baking_ part; Mallek has a strict policy about never dipping into his own supply.

It's so easy. Maybe the clowns did get it right: trickery and foolishness is the only way forward on Alternia.

Beside you, Mallek pulls out no fewer than five scales and starts weighing his ingredients.

"Did you really expect me to believe a clown was acting altruistic for once?" His voice is as deadpan as it always is, but his smile is true. "No rube gets weed for free on purpose."

"Rube?"

"Yeah, y'know," Mallek dumps half a bag of flour on the scale, no bowl. How the hell has he survived this long? "Rube. Spectator. Yokel." He cracks two eggs into a blender. "A non-clown."

You avert your eyes from the horror show that is Mallek in the kitchen. The water is low in your designated cannabutter pan; you deal with that.

MSPAR: Don't get your hopes up for these brownies.

Marvus: cant fxxk up brownies, babe

MSPAR: He just put eggs in the blender.

Marvus: u said u was on butter duty ?

MSPAR: Yeah.

Marvus: got faith in u bud

There's a pause before Marvus texts you again.

Marvus: maybe save some of dat dank spread for me tho

"So. Husktop problems." Mallek smirks as he shoots you a side-eye.

"You know how clowns are," you smirk back, knowing full well that he knows you know he's not buying it. "Clumsy. And apparently slutty? So many caste stereotypes I'm learning today."

"Marvus Xoloto's husktop problems."

"Well, not problems exactly. Not yet..." you trail off as Mallek starts pouring chocolate chips- unmelted- into the flour on the scale. "Someone else's husktop. Marvus Xoloto's... interest."

Mallek shrugs as he starts scooping up stray chocolate chips and placing them with meticulous care back into his dry ingredients pile.

"Besides, what are you complaining about?" You lean back on the counter beside him, bicep to bicep. In one fell swoop, you scoop up a flour-dusted chocolate chip and press it to his lips. He takes your fingers into his mouth, sucking lightly at the chocolate that melted on your fingers and, most likely, the THC seeped into your skin. "You're getting yours. By the way, you know this is supposed to be melted, right?"

Mallek smirks at you.

"Heh. Watch this."

With all of the grace of a man without a bowl, Mallek gently lifts the scale over the blender and adds the dry ingredients to the wet ones. Then, to your horror, he dumps the still simmering cannabutter- buds and all- into the blender, too.

"Wai-"

In an instant, you're coated in a layer of... calling it brownie batter feels disingenuous. Wet flour. Weed scented cement.

You take a quick peek at your phone, glancing at your flour-covered face. Maybe you should join Marvus at church after all.

You nudge Mallek over with a bump to his hip.

"Okay, so this time you watch the butter."

-x-

It's the simplicity of the scheme that tickles Tagora's sly and fickle funny bone. 

His face is flushed with pride as his eyes skim over your legal prose. You can't lie; you're still buzzed and most of those words are Marvus's (albeit, heavily spellchecked). And, still buzzed, you can't help but wish you could be tickling a different sly and fickle bone if it meant you could see more flavors of this expression. 

That he hasn't let you past the threshold of his hive is a non-issue; you are still covered in a thick layer of flour and you smell like, well, a stoner. How could you, his best friend and legal partner, do anything but be understanding?

"It's a bold move to tell someone explicitly that they're being scammed and then scamming them," he taps his finger against his chin as he considers a tricky sentence.

"Scam's a strong word. I prefer 'business of new and unusual flavors.'" 

Tagora smiles a dagger-sharp grin at you from his seat at his desk. "The pandering to my sense of humor is a new and unusual flavor in and of itself. Should I expect flattery next? Bribing?" He rewrites a few sentences by hand, scratching and scribbling before retyping the documents on his personal typewriter.

"Normally, your bedraggled alien charm would have done just as well as any legal entrapment." He stands and starts the long walk over from his desk to his front door. "Nevertheless, I have to applaud ingenuity for ingenuity's sake."

" _Genius's_ sake, Tagora." You gingerly take the documents from him, doing all in your earthly power to avoid dirtying both the papers and Tagora himself. "You are free to call it like you see it, I see no need for false modesty."

"Don't push it," Tagora says, his lip curling up as he fights the internal battle to touch you tenderly like a lover or launch you like a football into his ablution trap.

It culminates in him holding his hand up like he's saluting you. You snort.

"Just tell me what I need to do," he says as he starts to lead you away. "We can discuss payment later."

"Let's take the walk to review my options."

Somehow, you doubt Tagora appreciates being paid in humor and holiday spirit, but surely you can use it for leverage.

And, failing that, well...

It's a long walk.

-x-

Lanque's attempt to look covert in a public place makes him look so suspicious that, when Tagora (also suspicious) joins him, the laws of entropy laugh in your face and make them both look very much at home.

You're close enough to hear them, by some sort of magic granted to you by being the central character of this story. God, the fumes from the brownies must have lingered.

"Are you really the best snifftective for the job?" You can practically hear the sneer in Lanque's voice. Very visceral, you wish you could applaud.

"If you had any other options, you wouldn't be wearing an overcoat in a cafe." You glance up to Lanque's husktop screen, where Mallek's remote hacking left a bluescreen and a flashing message: "!! hacking in progress !!"

Mallek must be feeling the fumes, too.

You hear Lanque mutter, "it really is like the movies," and miss the next part of the conversation. Who knew stifling laughter was so loud?

"Let's discuss my payment."

"Payment? You haven't done anything yet," Lanque's dismissive tone is almost convincing. Here's where Tagora comes in.

" _'Were I but a willow by your window / The harsh winds might speak through me / Is it-'_ "

Lanque must look truly distressed, because, in the next moment, Tagora is making his _"gotcha"_ smile.

"Surely we can work something out? Something of value with you? Collateral?" It's very lucky that Lanque has never met Tagora; the idea of Tagora refusing payment- even though you know you're the one paying- is so shocking you nearly bolt up from your chair.

But what happens next is even more shocking. Lanque reaches into his overcoat and pulls out the blank journal you gave him.

It's at this moment that you know: you took it too far.

And here's where Tagora's weak spot really fucks you over: he doesn't stop something he's started. Fuck professionalism. God damn it.

You watch Tagora do some fancy typing- with one finger, startlingly fast- before the computer screen types a ":(" and reboots. Good as new. 

Tagora leaves. 

You were sitting at this table by yourself, but it's the first time today you've felt alone.

-x-

Lanque is slow walking to the omniscuttlebus station, and you can only say thanks to whoever is listening for that.

But how to approach him? Hey Lanque! I played this prank on you that turned out mean spirited (thanks for not going according to plan, by the way), but my intent was all in good fun.

Yeah. That's not going to go well for either of you.

When you catch up to him, the words come to you unbidden.

"Hey!" you pause to catch your breath. Not because you were running or anything; you were just that nervous. "Now that it's not the holiday season anymore, I have a gift for you."

Lanque gives you a slow once over, from your ruined outfit to the journal you hold outstretched to him.

"What the hell have you been up to?"

Sheepishly, you offer him a brownie as well.

And- miracle of miracles- he takes your gifts with a smile.

-x-

Marvus accepts your facetime call so quickly you think he must have been waiting for it.

MSPAR: So. 

MSPAR: All did not go according to plan.

Marvus: datz tha beauty of the thang, babe :o)

Marvus: sometimez u prank

Marvus: and sometimes you are da pranked

MSPAR: Ah. Word.

Marvus laughs, and he keeps laughing as you recount the story. 

Marvus: dam b

Marvus: imma be real w you tho

Marvus: this amount of trickery is tha best gift i ever had get got

MSPAR: :)

Marvus: && i gotz one for u, babe :o)

With his words, a hired car- small, but clearly expensive- pulls languidly up beside you.

Marvus: happy new sweep

Marvus: sorry i cant be there w u in person

Marvus: but spiritually i am all yourz ;o)

You step in; a glass of champagne juts itself out towards you, and you grab it before the car decides to drop it for laughs.

MSPAR: The trickery was fun, but I think I'm ready to wind down now.

Marvus: i know

Marvus: u ain't da only one w the wicked knowledge & a few trixxx up ya sleeves b

Soon enough, you're rolling onto Skylla's ranch. Tension unwinds from you just at the sight of her cozy log cabin style hive.

MSPAR: Thanks, Marvus.

Marvus: dam dont thankz me

Marvus: i aint tha one what made u dinner

Marvus: happy non-denominational, secular holiday :o)

With that, Marvus disconnects from the facetime call.

-x-

"Holidays are plumb strange for me, too," Skylla says between bites of black-eyed peas and cornbread. Her plate is laid out in a simple triad: black-eyed peas for luck, collard greens for money, and cornbread for friendship. She says the cornbread is a new addition this sweep, and you don't miss how she favors scooping the peas onto the cornbread and taking hearty bites. She throws the crumbs into the fire between you.

"Glad to know it's not me," you take a ginger bite of collard greens, too polite to decline. "I don't know why they get so hard sometimes."

"Well, it's about expectations, don't you think?" She finishes scooping up all her peas onto her last bite of cornbread. "People always expect the holidays to be this magical time, but they really ain't. Round these parts, anyway, I get nothin' but dark mornings and frosted cow shit." She gives you a wry smile as you start to laugh. "How's that for new beginnings?"

Skylla laughs with you as you finish your plate. Satiated, sleepy, and warm on more levels you knew you possessed, you watch Skylla pour you a finger of brandy.

"To, fucking, the holidays," you slur as you raise your glass to her. She laughs.

"To fucking the holidays!" Her toast is more spirited, and you both throw back your drinks. Skylla lets out a stiff 'whew!' as the drink stings on the way down. You finger the rough wood of her campfire chairs.

"You know, I think what I miss the most from home is the string lights."

"The what now?"

"The string lights. They were so magical and cozy. I think you would have liked them."

"Never heard of 'stringed lights,'" Skylla leans her forearm on the table, leaning into your space. "But let's leave this sweep behind us with one last yeehaw." 

Before you know it, Skylla is standing and roughly dragging you with her.

"You gave me quite the idea, partner!" She calls behind her as she leads you to her barn. You do your best to watch for frosted cow shit.

The world is a blur for a moment; the only thing you catch is Skylla running her hands over some rope, and Skylla running to the back of her barn, and then Ladyy lunging at you before Skylla tells you to hold on while hoisting you up onto Ladyy's back with her.

The wind from the lasso cuts and tousles at your hair as Skylla winds it over your head is like a small helicopter. She lets it loose over a tree with a hoot and a holler, and soon enough, you find yourself joining in.

This goes on for some time. Skylla twirls a small lasso, she throws it at a tree, and you both hoot and holler about it. Ladyy is shockingly fast, but a graciously smooth ride.

By the time you're all done, Skylla's campfire is nearly down to embers. But, despite the subdued glow, the warmth is steady and you crouch down beside it.

Her yard looks like a mess if you're being honest.

"So-"

"Hush!" She waves at you to be quiet. "There!"

Skylla points to one of the trees closest to the fence. You don't see- wait. En masse, thousands of fireflies float lazily to the ropes before clinging sleepily on.

"Fireflies love sugar water," Skylla confides, punching you on the shoulder. "I can't believe that worked!"

The glow of the fireflies isn't anything spectacular- actually, it's quite eerie- but it's an undeniably striking sight. 

Skylla plops down beside you, jostling your elbow with hers before she leans forward, arms hugging her knees as she takes in the sight of it all.

She turns to you, all smiles. 

"Welcome to the new sweep."

**Author's Note:**

> how's THAT for busting through some writer's block!!!


End file.
